


i do believe his mouth is heaven

by IneffableInsomniac



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, Gags, Hair-pulling, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Limousine Sex, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Suit Kink, Tie Kink, Tuxedos, but nothing big, in which i bullshit around a made-up event by making curt mega a himbo, mentions of period-typical homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25607530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableInsomniac/pseuds/IneffableInsomniac
Summary: "Where do you get off?""Bedroom, shower, maybe the backseat of a limousine."in which agent curt mega gets off in the backseat of a limousine, and returns the favor later.title and chapter titles from Saying Your Names, a poem from Crush by Richard Siken
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 13
Kudos: 76





	1. names of heat

Agent Curt Mega looked over at his partner and lover, Agent Owen Carvour, and if his gaze lingered a little too long on the other man’s figure, nobody outside of their limousine had to know.

God, he looked good in that suit.

Curt didn’t get to see Owen in formalwear very often, giving the man’s penchant for more sensible clothing. Curt, on the other hand, had always had a bit of a flair for the dramatic and would opt into a tuxedo for events that were on the casual side. Owen would tease him about this if not for the fact that they both know he pulled it off incredibly well. Curt’s charisma made up for his less-than-practical dress sense.

They had both dressed up for the event they were headed to that evening. They had been assigned to work together at a gala of some sort. Curt wasn’t entirely clear on the details of their mission, as he usually left the planning up to Owen and Cynthia. His specialty was smooth talking, and as long as he know who he was talking to, the finer points didn’t matter.

His train of thought was interrupted by his fellow agent, who had noticed the staring. “Like what you see, love?”

“You- I-,” Curt stumbled over his words. So much for a smooth talker. Somehow, all that suavity went right out the window when he talked to his boyfriend. “You… look good. In a suit.” There was a pause accompanied by loaded eye contact, and Curt took that as a signal to backpedal. “Not that you don’t look good normally, I just-”

Curt’s rambling was cut short when Owen closed the gap between them with a gentle kiss. “Darling, I know what you meant,” he said with humor in his voice. “Perhaps I should wear suits more often if they get you this flustered?”

Curt had no response to that other than to open his mouth slightly before closing it again for the fear of digging this hole even deeper. Could a man just appreciate his boyfriend in peace?

Owen took the silence as a signal and leaned in to kiss Curt, more deeply this time. His hand came up behind Curt’s head to run his fingers through the man’s hair, and Curt’s hands found their way to the taller agent’s waist. Before long, Owen was practically in Curt’s lap, and the two were making out heatedly.

Owen pulled away from his lover to glance at the partition separating them from the driver and then at his watch. Grinning wickedly, he removed himself from Curt’s lap, ignoring the small whine of confusion that Curt made.

“Love, we’ve got about twenty minutes until we get to the gala.” Owen stopped there and watched the cogs of Curt’s brain turn as he tried to determine exactly what Carvour was implying. Owen decided to speed the process up a bit, and he moved fluidly down to a kneeling position on the floor of the limousine.

Owen reveled for a moment in the look on Mega’s face. It was a blend of nervous, scandalized, and turned on, and he decided that he quite liked it. “Darling, if you don’t want to, we can-”

“I didn’t say that! I just…” Curt trailed off, nodding in the direction of the partition. They had been relatively quiet so far, but they both knew that Curt was loud, and the limo driver could very well report them for “unnatural acts” if he overheard them. 

Owen nodded in understanding. “Don’t worry. I have cash on me. A decent tip ought to keep him quiet, and I can always bill it to the agency as a ‘business expense,’” he joked. Curt hesitated for a moment and then nodded. Owen got back onto the seat beside him, and Curt gave him a look of confusion but simply watched as his boyfriend removed the tie he was wearing.

Without speaking, Owen held out a thinner section of the tie stretched between his hands, and Curt blushed as he realized Carvour’s intentions. Still, he complied, leaning forward and taking the length of fabric in his mouth as Owen tied a knot behind his head. Who knew that spy training had so many extracurricular uses?

After Owen was satisfied with the gag he’d tied, he slid back down to the floor and placed his hands on Curt’s knees. “Darling, if you want to stop, just tap the seat twice, okay?” He waited for Curt’s nod, and then ran his hands up the inside of the American’s thighs, grinning wickedly when it made him shudder and groan. God, he was easy to work up.

Looking innocently up at the man above him, Owen undid the fly of Curt’s pants and, for added flair, leaned in to slowly pull the zipper down using his teeth. Curt sat still and watched, wide-eyed, as Owen pulled his cock from his briefs and, stopping to spit into his hand, stroked him to full hardness. 

“Enjoying yourself, love?”

Curt moaned around the tie in his mouth and nodded frantically. He needed Owen’s gorgeous mouth on him as soon as possible, but Owen was in control here, and he was going to have to be good if he wanted to get off before the gala. God, would Owen really do that to him? Make him walk into a high-class political event still hard in his slacks? He wouldn’t put it past him. If he could get away with it, Owen would show him off everywhere they went. Just the thought made Curt squirm.

He was brought back to reality by Owen’s slender fingers on his hips, pressing them into the seat and holding him still. The loss of Owen’s hand on his dick made Curt keen gently into the quiet, heavy air of the limousine. 

Owen leaned forward and slowly licked a stripe up the underside of Curt’s shaft, eliciting a loud moan from him. He took the head into his mouth, running his tongue over the slit. Curt’s hips canted forward at the touch, and Owen pushed them harder against the seat, pulling away to speak. 

“If you don’t behave, we can stop now.”

Curt shook his head, fear and desperation in his eyes. He spoke quietly around the gag.

“… ‘ll be good, pr’mise.”

Owen didn’t respond aloud. He simply smirked up at Curt before taking the entire length into his mouth in one fluid motion, Curt’s eyes going wide. Even in the dim light of the limousine, Owen could tell that Curt’s pupils were blown. He hummed around Curt’s dick, bobbing his head slowly while his fingers pressed red marks into Curt’s hipbones that would later bloom into a deep purple. 

Curt had lost all semblance of composure and was openly whimpering into the fabric of Owen’s makeshift gag, his knuckles white on the leather of the seat. He was close to finishing, and Owen could tell. He had done this enough to know when Curt was about to come.

Owen braced himself, then pressed forward until his nose was against Curt’s lower stomach, running his tongue along the bottom of his cock, and Curt was sent over the edge. He shuddered as he came into Owen’s mouth, biting hard on the gag to stop himself from crying out. When Curt was finished, Owen pulled slowly off of his dick, cleaning him off as best he could. He tucked Curt back into his pants, pleased with himself for successfully having kept Curt’s outfit clean. After all, they would be at the gala in about - he looked down at his watch - five minutes.

Owen clambered back up onto the seat next to Curt, motioning for Curt to turn his head so that he could remove the gag. He gently undid the knot, checking to make sure that it hadn’t left any visible marks. A fresh abrasion on his neck wasn’t something either of them wanted to explain. Curt turned around and kissed Owen deeply, tasting himself on Owen’s mouth as they locked lips. 

Curt pulled away, a grin plastered across his face and his usual cocky demeanor back in place. “I’ll return the favor later, doll. Now, how do I look?”

“Like you just had sex in the back of a limousine.”

“Perfect.”


	2. names of light

Agent Owen Carvour, under the guise of a British dignitary named Jack Chapman, has been talking to a government official of some foreign country for around thirty minutes. Albe Wagner is the Minister of Defense of the New Democratic Republic of Old Socialist… something-or-other. She’s been drinking heavily and is telling him some things about their nuclear program that he’s _very_ interested in taking back to MI6 when someone taps him on the shoulder.  
  
“Owen, I need you.”

Curt’s voice hisses in his ear. Christ, the man has no tact! Wagner hasn’t noticed anything, still rambling on about detonation sites, and Owen’s watch is recording, so he turns slightly and whispers back.  
  
“Can it wait? I’m a little busy, _Marcus_.”  
  
He watches as the cogs in Curt’s brain spin, trying to figure out why he’d called him a different name. As much as he loves Curt, the man would lose his own head if it weren’t attached. Moments later, a proverbial lightbulb above Curt’s head. He’d forgotten they were both undercover.  
  
“Oh, sure, of course, _Jack_.” He overemphasizes the name and punctuates it with a wink. What a dork. Before he walks away, he presses a cocktail napkin into Owen’s hand.  
  
Owen continues to nod along to Albe’s spiel about an atoll that was being used for testing as he carefully unfolds the white napkin to reveal a message scrawled in pen.  
  
MEET ME IN THE BATHROOM IN TEN MINUTES. - C  
  
Alright, he’ll bite. He’s not sure exactly what Curt wants, but his voice had sounded urgent enough, and so he allows his conversation with the minister to come to a close, turning off the recording device inside his watch as he walks away.

There’s a bathroom just off of the main banquet hall, and Owen walks quickly there. Hopefully, Curt had gone in a few minutes ago and locked it to avoid suspicion. He knocks gently on the door, and Curt’s voice calls out. “Just a moment.”  
  
“It’s me.”  
  
A brief pause, and then the lock clicks and the door opens slightly. He quickly enters, turning to lock the door behind him. “What’s this about, Curt?”  
  
When Owen turns back around, Curt is already on his knees in front of him. Oh. _Oh_. “Really, Curt? This couldn’t wait until we got back to the hotel?”  
  
Curt barely registers his words, his hands fumbling at the front of Owen’s pants, and Owen feels warmth pool in his gut. “You just- you look so beautiful, and I can’t- need you, now, please?” When he looks pleadingly up at Owen, waiting for permission, intense desperation fills his eyes, and Owen has never been one to deny his darling anything.

“Alright, lovely. Here.” He steps back, leaning against the bathroom door, and unbuckles his belt. As Curt watches, enraptured, he undoes the button at the top of his fly and slides the zipper down. He’s already half-hard, his erection tenting the front of his briefs.  
  
Curt hesitates, his hands gravitating towards Owen. “Can… am I allowed to use my hands, sir?”  
  
Owen’s caught slightly off-guard by the title, a jolt of arousal running through him, but he takes it in stride. “Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want. This was your idea, after all,” He teases.

In an instant, Curt’s hands are on Owen’s hips, dragging down the hem of his briefs and freeing his dick. Curt places one hand on the door to steady himself and takes Owen’s cock in the other, leaning forward and wrapping his lips around the head. Owen groans quietly at the contact, and Curt hums in amusement, drawing a gasp from the taller man.

Curt pulls away, his hand working slowly up and down Owen’s length, his thumb swiping over the tip. “Enjoying yourself, _love_?” He smirks at his own remark.

“Quit, ah, using my words against me and use y- your mouth on me instead, darling.”

Curt responds with a brief “Yes, sir,” before he leans in and sucks a hickey into the dip where Owen’s thigh meets his torso, causing Owen to cry out before biting down on his knuckles to keep quiet. Curt gently nips the tender skin, admiring his handiwork before taking Owen’s entire cock into his mouth.

Owen keens quietly, tipping his head back as his hips jerk forward. One of his hands tangles into Curt’s hair, pulling gently and making him moan around Owen’s dick. He thrusts deeper into Curt’s mouth, but to his surprise, Curt doesn’t gag at all, just takes him happily. God, he’s good at this, Owen thinks distantly to himself. He can feel himself getting close.

Curt hollows his cheeks around Owen’s cock, working his tongue against the bottom of his shaft, and Owen’s caught completely off-guard as he comes down Curt’s throat. Curt keeps his mouth on Owen through the aftershocks of his orgasm, only pulling off when Owen’s vice grip on his hair falters and his dick begins to soften.

Owen opens his eyes and gazes down at Curt with love in his eyes. There’s a trail of come dribbling from his lips and a fucked-out haze in his eyes. His hair is a wreck. He’s absolutely _gorgeous_.

Owen tucks himself back into his briefs and kneels down, grabbing a paper towel. He wipes the spit and semen from Curt’s chin, mumbling praise. Curt’s brain finally clicks back on, and he pulls Owen into a gentle kiss by his tie.

“Mmm, thank you, lovely. That was wonderful.”

“My pleasure, sir.” Curt smiles cheekily. “Told you I’d return the favor.”

“Oh, sod off. You look a mess, dear.” Owen cards a hand through Curt’s hair, straightening it somewhat. “Beautiful, but not very professional,” He muses.

“Eh, who cares? I’ve already gotten the info I need, so if you’re done, we can head back to the hotel.” Curt stands, looking into the mirror. “Yeesh, you weren’t kidding. Carvour, what’d you _do_ to my hair?"

Owen stands, taking Curt’s hand and rolling his eyes. “Whatever. You liked it. Let’s get out of here, darling.”

“Yes, sir!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit i actually finished a multi-chapter fic? unprecedented
> 
> once again, thanks to everyone on the spies discord server for putting up with my lack of schedule or motivation (and my overuse of italics). love all of you <3

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the SAF discord server, who have heard me talk about the limo fic i'm working on for like two months  
> (comment if you want an invite link :))
> 
> also i do intend to write a second chapter where curt does return the favor so. that will be a thing eventually. hopefully it's not another two months slkdjfhkglskdj
> 
> edit: second chapter up and it only took me (checks watch) like two weeks? damn, you still got it, mega


End file.
